


Ragnarök

by An_Author



Series: A Soul to the Universe [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Betrayal, Character Development, Gen, Psychological Drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-15
Updated: 2014-01-15
Packaged: 2018-01-08 19:54:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1136717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/An_Author/pseuds/An_Author
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shannon Byrns has gone into hiding since she was last in England.  She made it her mission to find the mole back in Boston and bring them to justice.  However, grief strikes her again and she is left bereft and mentally taxed.  She needs to have answers and at this point in her journey - she doesn't seem to care the cost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ragnarök

Sean O’Rourke could barely make out a lone figure that stood on the mountainside of Mount Guyot.  This section of the eastern Smokey Mountains was one of the most remote and rugged stretches of mountains in the United States east of Colorado.

The crisp air was intoxicating as he drew deep, full breaths while O’Rourke hiked up the mountain.  His eyes watered in protest from the wind.  There was no doubt in his mind that his target had not spotted him already.  His legs burned from the trek; he had been following this person for the better part of five weeks and he was always ten steps behind.  At nearly every turn, the subject was purposely going into rougher terrain to try and lose him.  _I will not just let you go.  Not after what happened.  Not after London._

When he reached a clearing in the brush, he peered about for the lone figure – but they had vanished.  “God damn it,” he growled.  “I’m getting too old for all this shit.”  He bent over with his hands on his knees with heavy breaths creating small clouds of mist.

“Stop,” came a clear voice from behind him.  He froze and stood upright slowly.  “Why have you been following me, O’Rourke?  Turn around.  Slowly.”

He carefully rotated about to face the calm, commanding voice behind him.  His face relaxed when he realized that she was unarmed.

“Shannon Byrnes.  How nice to have finally caught up with you,” he said warmly.  _I don’t think I could have followed you for another three weeks.  This hike is killing me._   “Though, I am kind of worried that you’re not carrying anything for protection.  I’ve got a knife in my pack I can give you…”

She smirked slyly, “No need.  Just step to your left when we leave to go back to my camp.  You’re surrounded by traps.  Come on, let’s go.  I’ll get a fire going – you look like you haven’t eaten well in a week.”

“Wait, how many traps?”

“Five.  Now, two sidesteps to the left; and then walk towards me at a forty-five degree angle.”

He nodded slowly and did as he was told, “You know, you and I still need to talk about London.”

She scowled over her shoulder at him, “No, we don’t, Sean.  Don’t make me regret not cleaning you.  I just came here to get away for a few months.”

“Shannon,” he huffed out of breath, “After what happened, you disappearing for all that time, and then out of the blue showing up in Maine to do the Appalachian Trail this fall – you know I’ve been worried, right?”

She waited for him to catch up to her on the hill and responded flatly, “I’m obviously fine, Sean.”

“Obviously,” he countered, “That’s why I had to follow you our here.  You moved out of your apartment with Andy.  He was concerned; you hadn’t called him for close to six months.”

“He wasn’t one hundred percent safe,” she shrugged as they entered her camp site, “So I moved out.  I needed some space considering.”  She offered him her folding chair and her canteen.  She sat opposite him on the ground as she restarted her fire.

He eyed her suspiciously.  _She’s never going to tell me exactly what happened.  For that matter, she doesn’t talk about Matt anymore.  I wonder if that’s what started it all._

“Stop it, Sean.  Stop thinking so loud.  If you have questions, you should just ask them.”

He was baffled, “Where did you go, Shannon?  This isn’t the young woman that I sent out on a plane back then – not by a long shot – “

“ – a plane trip that has no record of ever occurring now, mind you – “ she interjected.

“ – Jesus, Shannon – what did you get mixed up with?”

She crossed her arms and gazed off into the forest.  “It’s so farfetched that you wouldn’t believe me, I don’t think.”

“I’m a cop, young lady; this is what I do.”

A nerve in her face jumped in agitation, “Am I talking to Sean, my friend, or DC O’Rourke, the cop?”

Annoyed, he retorted sharply, “You know me better than that, young lady.  I can’t believe that you said that.  It’s about Matt, isn’t it?”

“He was a major catalyst, yes,” she grumbled as she threw a kettle onto the fire for tea and coffee.

“Alright, on a scale of one, being a paper cut, to ten being disowned, how bad is it?”

Her breathing hitched in her throat as she met her friend’s eyes.  “Damnable.  And treason.”

His semi-cheerful demeanor dissipated.  _Oh Christ – I didn’t think that it could possibly be this bad.  It’s no wonder that she doesn’t want to open up.  The kid that I took under my wing – she’s grown and gone now._   “Shannon…I didn’t know.”

“It’s done,” she replied coolly, “But they are more or less safe in a really, really fucked up way.”

“They?”

“Yes, they.”  She handed DC O’Rourke a cup of coffee and looked at him rather plainly.  “It’s all sort of obvious, don’t you think?”

He grumbled, “Not to me.”

As he took a sip from his cup, Shannon conceded in the most dead-pan tone she could muster, “Sherlock’s alive.”  The police officer choked.

“Young lady, I know you were there – you saw it on the news; everywhere!  He’s dead, dear – you need you let it go.”

She scoffed, “Of course he’s not; I saved his life.  He’s very much alive.”

O’Rourke sat there gob smacked in silent contemplation.  _She’s insane – or she’s being bluntly honest._   “Alright, say that I bite.  How would you have possibly pulled that off?  You were only there for how long before he died?”

“Almost four months or so.”

“Then why did you stay away for so long after?  Christ, Shannon – I have been so worried about you; Andy was worried about you and then all the sudden you two were fine!”  Acknowledgement washed across his mind, “Oh…I see.  You Geist-ed him, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” she responded without looking up from her cup.  “Look, Sean, I know I told you about the program and whatnot – but there are a few things that you don’t know; a few things that have happened since that time and what it’s done to me.”  Her voice was heavy and lacked any and all warmth.  Her hair fell down around her face as she slowly shook her head, “It’s been hard.”

“Talk to me, kiddo – today, I’m Sean.  I’m not wearing the badge,” he placated.

She filled his cup again after retrieving a few blankets from her tent.  “You’re going to want this.  It’s going to be a long night,” she paused a moment before starting to break down O’Rourke’s pack.  “But first, let’s get you set up here – you’re not going anywhere; not until you’ve rested.”

As she worked diligently on setting up camp for him, O’Rourke listened intently as she recounted her time spent at Baker Street.  He sat in the cloth chair enthralled in her tale; occasionally interjecting with a question here and there for clarity’s sake.

The shadow of night had covered the mountain’s scenery by the time she finished recanting her story.  The warm, orange glow of firelight softened Shannon’s face to make her features almost appear delicate.  O’Rourke could hear the strain of loss in her voice as the echoed memories came forward.  _How is this kid still functioning?  And Sherlock Holmes – not dead; very much alive – and he doesn’t know…?_   When she had finished speaking, there was a long silence in which he digested everything she had said.

_I don’t blame him – and I wouldn’t be surprised if he doesn’t believe a word I’ve said: the entire story seems so askew and farfetched that it should inspire doubt.  But it_ is _real.  I have had to live with it; all this time._   “I understand, Sean, if you don’t believe me; I do – because this story feels like a thriller you’d see at the theater…”

“…Okay,” he uttered calmly and quietly, “That was a lot, yeah…  So that accounts for up to his ‘murder/suicide’.  Why did it take you so long to come back – where have you been?  And why am I, apparently, the only person who has A) known where you are; and, B) not had my memory wiped?”

Her eyes bored into him.  _My soul – Christ, she is terrifying sometimes…_   He could sense that his entire demeanor was under careful scrutiny.  “Shannon, come on, kiddo – talk to me.  You’re the one that opened the door for this …”

The young woman’s lip twitched quickly in agitation, “I suppose.”  She stood up lazily to stretch and throw another log onto the fire.  “Do you believe me?”

“About what, the Holmes thing?  I have no reason to doubt you, really.”

She stared up into the night sky and placed her hands on her hips.  “I understand that – but do you believe me?  Honestly?”

Sean smiled faintly, “Of course.  It’s bizarre – but I can’t see how you made that all up.  It’s not like you.”

“Well then,” she sighed heavily, “Let’s begin, shall we?  
“After Holmes ‘died’ and the papers were rampant with gossip, I kept very close by, you see – always in the shadows just where no one wants to or thinks to look.  I could have just been an obsessive fan at the funeral.  I kept an eye out for what Sherlock was up to; but I wasn’t completely worried about him.  He was my best friend and all, but he’s still Sherlock Holmes – I didn’t have to babysit him all the time,” she snorted quickly, “I was always a step ahead of him anyway.  I almost always knew where he was and what he was up to.  
“But John; and, to a degree, Mycroft, his brother – they needed guidance here and there.  Especially John.  I couldn’t just leave him there on his own for so long.”

 

~ ~ ~

 

_“John had been rattled down to his core: the person who lay in that grave, (or so he has been led to believe,) made him to be the best person he could be.  Through the fights, the insults, the ill-timed laughter; all of it brought John out of his shell from Afghanistan.  Even towards the end, John’s loyalty to Sherlock was outstanding: no one could rattle it or tell him that Holmes was a fraud.  He knew, somewhere deep, that this was a coup d’état and that Sherlock was the scape goat._   
_“At the funeral; my soul was torn to shreds as I gazed upon John and his grief.  He begged; pleaded that Sherlock show him that this was all a trick.  That the turn and prestige would pay off and suddenly his friend would appear from behind that gravestone – but it wasn’t to be.  In the coming weeks, he was at his worst.  Sherlock was no longer in my frame of mind – I owed it to John.  He was also my friend and I appreciated him more than I could ever possibly express._   
_“About two or so weeks after, John had started withdrawing.  He hadn’t seen his therapist for so long…he hadn’t needed to.  But now?  I knew that I had to intervene…somehow._   
_“One of the days that John had ventured out into the world out of necessity, I tailed him and created the framework for our next few interactions.  It all started when I shouldered him and then fell to the pavement.  It was such a happenstance occurrence, how would he ever then realize that it was deliberate?”_

 

“Oh, excuse me; I am so sorry,” she stammered as she picked herself up.  “That was completely my fault, I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

Doctor John Watson was surprised that he knocked over this young girl before him.  He noticed, as she was dusting herself off, that this woman was of solid stature.  She had strong shoulders and more of a stocky build; she wasn’t necessarily his type on first glance.

“No, no – I wasn’t watching where _I_ was going.  This is my fault.  Here, let me help you.”

“No, please, I’ll be fine, please,” she conceded.

John looked at her palms and sighed, “Now I’ve done it.  Your palms will need tending to and I’ve dumped your coffee all over the pavement.”

“It’s nothing,” she waved him off, “Really.  If they become a problem – I’ll just go see a doctor.  It shouldn’t be that big of a deal.  Let me buy you a cuppa.  I insist.”  Shannon made her face more insistent.  “Please.”

John frowned before giving a slight smile, “Alright – I’m not one to argue with a lady.  I’ll look at your hands when we get to the shop.  I happen to be a doctor.”

“I think I can accept that.  I do know that there’s a Costa around the corner there, if that’s alright.”

“I’m not picky,” he retorted.  “That’ll do just fine.”

The pair of them walked the half of a block to the café where Shannon ordered their tea and then John sat patiently at a table. _She seems nice enough.  I wonder if she knows who I am.  What if she’s a reporter?  I’ll be having none of that.  It’ll be a kind and polite ‘fuck off’.  Yes, that what I’ll do._  
A tray bushing along the tabletop brought him back to reality from his thoughts.

“I just bought a pot to share; I hope that’s okay.”

John’s face was stern as he growled, “If you’re a reporter, you can fuck off.”

She feigned a confused expression across her features, “Reporter?  Why… Are you famous?”

“You don’t know who I am?  At all?”

She shook her head, “Nope, can’t say that I do – I mean; I just got here, to be honest.  I’m going to do some traveling and stuff.  You see, I’m in England for a few weeks, then I’ll be off to Denmark, Spain, Morocco, and then maybe Turkey.  As long as I have money to get home, I’ll keep going and seeing as much as I can.  I don’t mean to offend you since I don’t know who you are – I’m not one for keeping up on celebrities.”

“Doctor John Watson…?”

“Nope, doesn’t ring a bell.  My name’s Samantha Grant,” she chuffed as she extended her hand.  John took it and shook it gingerly on account of her mild abrasions.

“Doctor John Watson.  Pleasure to meet you.  If I can ask,” he queried casually, “What brings you to London?”

“My best friend is English – he’s always going on about things to see here. I decided that I’d come and take a look while I was on a traveling spree.”  Her gut was in knots – lying to John so blatantly was not something that she found ideal.

The doctor scrutinized her face for any trace of deception but couldn’t find any.  _She seems genuine enough.  And she doesn’t know who I am.  It might be nice to have some company albeit briefly, you know._

“Hello?  Earth to Doctor Watson, come in, Doctor Watson,” she laughed heartily.  “There you are.  You’d gone for a moment.”

Embarrassed, he face reddened lightly.  “I’m sorry – I’ve got a lot on my mind.  I didn’t mean to be rude; I’m terribly sorry.  It’s just – “

Her heart was rising into her throat.  _Thanks, John, for the guilt._ “It’s okay – I’m sorry if I pried.  I’ve been trying to hide from myself lately, too.”  John’s eyes shifted around uncomfortably.  “I mean, I have been.  I don’t know about you.  You see, a few months ago my best mate was hit by a car and he’s in a coma.  There’s a chance he’ll never wake up.  I decided to go on this huge trip because I need to live for the both of us right now.  I’ll have pictures and stories to tell when he wakes up.”

_Oh God.  I’ve offended her to the point where she had to justify herself.  Did she just say that she’s having a hard time?  Oh, if she only knew what was going on in my head – Is it possible that, after all this; after all of what’s happened, things will move forward?_  
“I sympathize,” he admitted as he stared down to his cuppa, “I am going through a tough time.  I’d prefer not to talk about it; but – I do appreciate what you’re saying…it’s just…”

Shannon touched his hand with the tips of her fingers, “It’s okay – you don’t have to.  I understand.  It’s an unspoken rule.  Really.”  She finished her tea and stood up to leave.  “Thanks for the company and letting me buy you some tea.  Chance has a funny way of working out, don’t it?  Have a good day, Doctor John Watson,” she annunciated in jest, “You probably deserve a good one.”  With a smile she turned around and left.  
 _Shannon, just let it go, let it go, let it go, let it go, let it go…don’t turn around._

“Samantha!” he hollered.  She kept moving for the door because she wasn’t Samantha.  “Samantha!  Wait, your coat!”  John grabbed her shoulder to spin her around and hand her the coat.  “You don’t want to leave that.”

“Thank you – wow, thank you so much – I don’t know what’s up with me…”  _Smooth move, exlax.  You were trying to get out of this unscathed and you didn’t remember your cover name.  Pshhh._

A faint smile spread across the doctor’s lips, “I was wondering – would you be up for tea or coffee again?  I mean, just for while you’re in town.”

_Shannon – what the hell are you doing? You ran in to him to check on him – not start another friendship that might still endanger his life.  What is wrong with you?_

“Right – okay then,” John replied to her silence, defeated.  He turned on his heel to walk away.

“No, I mean – yes.  I’d love to,” she stammered.  _Great.  Sensational: you are such an idiot._

What could be only taken as happiness flashed into John’s eyes, “Really?  That – that’s wonderful.  Same time, here…tomorrow?”

The woman smiled brightly, “Of course.  I’ll see you then.”  She turned, walked away, and made herself disappear in the crowd.  She could hear her heart thundering in her ears with every heavy step she took to the pavement.  _What.  What are you doing, you idiot?_

John walked into an empty Baker Street and sat idly in his chair; hoping beyond all shred of hope that Sherlock would merely pop back into view so that John could punch him for being an ignorant twat.  But the unnerving silence began to get to him.  Sherlock, of course, had bouts where he wouldn’t necessarily speak for days – but there were still sounds: his almost meditative breathing, the rustle of fabric, and hearing his mind buzz.  The only sound that he could hear was there in his own heart: fracturing glass.  
 _But I’m a soldier._   Of course he is.  However, the man that brought him back from torment was now gone and he was left to his own demons once more.  
 _Please, Sherlock, please…don’t be dead._

She was frustrated.  Shannon stood in her hotel room overlooking the city street beneath her; and, on the wall behind her, there was a mess of notes and photographs that were her recent link to the outside world.  She had been studying that wall every waking moment as more information was brought to her attention.  By using Moriarty’s old networks, such that they were, Shannon was getting information, daily, on the underground crime world.  The people and groups that were brought to her attention were astounding.  Any one of them could be the real reason for Phantom and Geist’s existence.

_There are always bigger fish in the sea – that man wasn’t the only one with cards on the table.  Who else is in play?  He couldn’t have been the only one that was in on the project.  I keep feeling as if I’m still being watched.  What have I missed?_

The bustle beneath her often would give her clarity when she got into a bind.  She spun around slowly to look at her wall with clear eyes.  There had to be something that she was missing that was so blatantly obvious.  Something in the pictures – somewhere. 

 

~ ~ ~

 

_“You see, Sean, I was so preoccupied with Sherlock and John that I was forgetting to look at the big picture:  but what was the big picture?”_

Sean’s voice dragged her from her thoughts.  “I don’t understand how you could have possibly got all of this information so readily.”

She blinked in confusion.  “Meaning?”

“All that information was at your disposal.  How could you get all that in seclusion?”

“Because I’m brilliant.”

He nodded skeptically, “Sure you are.”

Shannon rubbed her temples slowly, “You know – having all this knowledge up here,” she tapped her temples, “In such a fashion that I’ve acquired it – it’s painful.”

“Shannon,” he hesitated, “It’ll be okay…”

“Sometimes, it’s as if my skull is splitting in two and white-hot fire is spilling out from it.  Can you fathom that – at all?  And then there’s the migraines.”

“Listen, kiddo,” he whispered hoarsely.  “I’m sure we can find you a doctor or something.”

The young woman sighed, “I should go and see John.”

“Shannon, you know that you can’t do that; it would compromise the pair of you – and now that I know Sherlock’s alive, I can say with certainty that it would endanger his life since you seem to think that there’s more in the shadows.”

Shannon stood up and began to walk around her campfire.  “You know, when I would look at that wall every night after I had spent part of my day with John, I almost had the clarity to see what was right in front of me.  For those couple of weeks it was almost as if things were back to normal and I was just dealing with one of those times Watson talked about when Sherlock would disappear on cases.”

“He’s alive – people will start looking for him,” he reached for his phone in his pocket.

“Sean, please, you won’t get reception out here.”

He froze.  “Shannon,” he warned, “I’m just checking the time.”

“Then check your watch – it’s digital and has a light on it.”

He put his hand back in front of him and checked the time, “Okay – you’re on edge.  You’ve had to deal with this secret for so long and the upkeep on your head probably hasn’t been happening.”

She stopped circling and stood behind him, “O’Rourke, did I mention that I went to see Andy before I came out for this hike?  I called him and he asked to meet in one of the parks out near Erie.  So I went out to see him.”  O’Rourke’s breathing hitched.  “It was this place I knew about; private.  Andy knew I was watching from a distance and signaled me.”

“I just talked to Andy last week and he didn’t say anything about seeing you.”

“The signal was for me to put my phone on silent.  Do you know who came into that small clearing?  Your boy, Jaime.  You know who I’m talking about, of course you do.  Jaime starts yelling at Andy, so he called me.  I answered.  What people don’t realize is that Andy and I agreed upon a code of sorts so that we could still keep each other safe.  You know what he said to me without Jaime knowing?  He told me to run…to get out of the country and disappear.  The mole was closer than I thought.”  Shannon began circling again.  “You can imagine, after all this time I’m supposed to be calm and collected.  My emotions should be in check; but they aren’t.  I tell him that I’m coming to get him.

“Andy hung up the phone and yelled to me, ‘RUN.  GET OUT OF HERE!’  I watched as Jaime stabbed him, disabling his diaphragm.  He was dying.  And I ran.”

“Kiddo, I’m so sorry.”

“I ran all the way to Jaime, yelling; and I fought him.  He was a fabulous fighter – I had no idea. But I got him.  I knocked him out.”

“Then let’s go and get him.  We can interrogate him.”  He was worried as her tone and speech pattern was becoming frantic.

“That’s done, Sean.  I did it already.  It’s quite fantastic what one can relay under stress.”

Sean eyed her warily.  She was talking so savagely – _This can’t be the same girl from back then.  It can’t be._   “Shannon, you’re not well.”

“It’s not that I’m not well, Sean, I’ve been turned into a sociopath; I just refuse to act on it.”  She paused behind Sean again.  “But, I did have Jaime detained for three weeks.  All sorts of information tumbled out of him.  Well, it would – of course – if variables are controlled enough to make him think he was being interrogated for 20 hours a day, subjected to torture for two, and left to sleep for two.  I controlled lights and sounds in a warehouse.  He never knew the difference.  To him two months had passed when in reality it was only three weeks.  You know what he told me?”  Her gaze reflected the dancing flames and her voice was icy.

“Shannon,” he stood up and spun quickly to face her.  O’Rourke noticed he couldn’t move.  His breathing was labored.  It felt as if his lungs were full of cement.

“Now that you’re paralyzed, for a moment, let’s get you over to this tree.”  She looped her arms around his shoulders and dragged him to where she had been sitting.  “Now, the little gem you’ve ingested and inhaled through your coffee steam is something known as tubocurarine chloride.  It’s dandy.  It was used,” she jeered as she sat in front on him on her haunches, “with anesthesia at one point to help with relaxation.  I’d tell you to Google it – but there’s no way you’re going to be able to do that at the moment.  So I’ll tell you all about it.  Firstly, your blood pressure is going to get really, _really_ low.  Then this thing called bronchoconstriction will occur.  Essentially, the muscle walls around your lungs will tighten.  I’m sure you are feeling that now.  It was one of the few drugs I could bring up here that didn’t need refrigerated.  But, you know me, almost a boy scout and almost always prepared.  This neuromuscular block is now affecting the rest of you: ta-da.  You’re temporarily paralyzed.”

His eyes widened in fear.

“Now, I know what you’re thinking.  I couldn’t have done this all on my own – and you’re right.  But being who I am and the person you so desperately have been trying to catch, I got smarter all of the sudden.  It’s a lovely mix.  I didn’t ask about the particulars – it just needed to work.

Her eyes began to water and rage filled both her veins and voice.  “After I knocked Jaime unconscious I ran to Andy.  He was the last of my family.  I had tried so hard after all this time to keep him safe.  He told me that you had gotten to him; told him to play along for my sake.  But he knew something was wrong.”

“Shannon,” he wheezed, “I – I – didn’t – “

“Silence.”  She stood up and groaned, “You don’t get it, do you?  I found out that I was supposed to go to some secret place for my next orders.  Which, at that time, would have given me another piece of the puzzle to help with the pain in my head.  But I didn’t go because I chose life over death.  I didn’t get that, obviously, so I could then infer that I was being watched.”

He coughed, “But – you – away – “

“Andy was right – there was a mole.  Jaime gave me a whole list of people; I didn’t want to believe him.  But you know what hurt the most as I watched Andy die?” she reached into her back pocket and withdrew a folded piece of paper.  As she slowly unfolded it, a tear fell from her face.  She revealed a very worn photograph that showed DC Sean O’Rourke speaking with Jaime, Matt, and James Moriarty.  “Andy gave me this whilst he struggled to breathe.  All of his remaining energy was spent to make sure that I knew what a bastard you are.”

O’Rourke sighed in frustration.  “You – never – to know – Sherlock – “

The picture was thrown in his face as she growled, “I should kill you.  I should.  You’ve let them take EVERYTHING away from me.  That picture was taken a week before Matt died.  Do you understand that you’ve condemned me to die until I take out that entire crime syndicate?  Do you realize that you have destroyed nearly everything I hold dear to me?  I will not be broken!” she yelled.

“I thought about shooting you: point blank to the face – but you don’t deserve such an easy way out.  I realized out of how Andy was killed, I could stab you and collapse a lung.  You’d drown eventually.  But again, that’s not so fulfilling.”

“Shannon – please – my family – you…”

“It’s late for sentiment now, Sean.  Besides, I’m letting you decide.  There’s only one way in and out of this camp.  In its entire surrounding area, there are traps of the mortally wounding persuasion.  When this all wears off, go ahead and try to get out.  Be my guest.  However, know this: if you survive, I will make you suffer every day for the rest of your life for what you’ve taken away from me.  Every.  Single.  Day.”

A single tear escaped his eye as he watched her turn around and walk away.  Shannon withdrew her pocket knife and threw it at his leg, having then made contact with his thigh.  “Oh, and you’ll want to hurry as soon as that all wears off.  The black bears around here are probably hungry.  If you happen to be innocent, then I’m sure your forgiveness will be easy to come by since you can see how you were made out to look like a culprit.  But don’t hold your breath.”

Sean coughed and sputtered while he gasped for air, “What – are – going – to do?”

_Am I really a sociopath?  Or is this still just my vendetta?  I don’t want hollow any more.  I don’t want to be alone – at least not this alone.  I don’t care if Sean makes it out of here alive.  He won’t come looking for me if he does.  He firmly believes that I will constantly be watching him.  I could set that up if I wanted to.  
But I want to live.  I need my best friend.  I need Moriarty dead.  I have to be sure that he’s truly dead.  I should have stayed.  I should have waited.  God damn it, Shannon, you’re a fucking twit.  This could have all been avoided if I’d just sucked it up.  This means that John may be in trouble; Molly, Greg…Mrs. Hudson.  I haven’t seen them in so long since the fall… It’s time._

“Exactly what I said I was going to do.  I’m going to help save Sherlock Holmes.  Not because he needs it.  But because I need him.  The world needs him.”  She walked quietly out of his line of sight and exited her camp with her essentials to head back towards civilization.


End file.
